


to jump a dimension for you

by carefulren



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sick Character, Sickfic, Whump, peter is a good stand in dad when jeff isn't there, this is my first fic for these nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: Peter B. Parker isn't sure why or how, but he's just been forced to Miles' dimension to help the kid out.(the one where Miles is sick and Peter is panicking because some stranger told him Miles needs his help)





	to jump a dimension for you

Miles’ dad has unspoken rules that, despite keeping to himself, Miles knows. There’s one increasingly frustrating rule that constantly has Miles fighting an inner war with himself– fight his dad’s stance on how ‘dangerous’ it could be to leave him home alone or keep his mouth shut to avoid light-hearted threats from his father about throwing him in a cell for the night if he back talks one more time. 

He tends to just keep his mouth shut; it’s easier, and he’s been a bit preoccupied being the new Spider-Man at night, and his lack of pressing his father to loosen up on his rules finally pays off over Christmas break when his parents announce a few night getaway from the city. 

The original plan was to include Miles, but Miles gesturing toward his mountain of text books was enough to have his father reluctantly agreeing to let him stay home alone, and after what felt likes years of ‘call me instantly if ANYTHING happens, Miles. Understand?’, his parents finally left, and Miles was quick to don his suit and leap out the window mere minutes after they left. 

The city’s oddly quiet tonight, and for once, Miles is thankful as he’s been feeling run down the last few days. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gotten a full night’s sleep– if he’s not patrolling, then he’s hunched over his desk working on homework. It’s exhausting– his body isn’t used to this, and he often finds himself questioning how Peter, any of the Peters, managed to keep up their personal lives while saving the city. 

From where he’s perched on a rooftop towering high above the city, Miles lightly coughs into his fist, frowning slightly, and falls to his back, fingers laced behind his head as he stares at the stars, something often lost among the lights of the city. 

He’s not sure when he drifts off, but he can easily blame the drums in his head that leave his temples pulsing uncomfortably, but he’s not out long. 

“Miles!” 

He jolts awake to see Peter– Peter B. Parker– standing over him with a frown, and he leaps to his feet in an instance, only to lose his footing and topple off the side of the building. Panic sets in his stomach, but only for a split second because he knows he can easily get himself safely out of this situation, but before he can shoot a web to catch himself, there’s a web hitting him in the chest and jerking him back to the rooftop. 

He flies up and hits the gravel with a hard thud, enough to have him pushing up on shaking arms and coughing harshly. 

“Miles! Are you okay?” Peter drops to his knees beside the kid, both hands braced to Miles’ shaking shoulders, and when Miles can finally catch his breath, he looks over and reaches one hand up to push his mask up, frowning. 

“Yes, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be–”

“You’re not hurt?” 

Miles’ words fall flat against his tongue, and he tilts his head. “No? Why? Did something happen?” 

An impossibly loud sigh slips from Peter’s lips, and he gets to his feet, one hand pressed to his chest as he walks away from Miles, just a few feet, before he hunches over and tries to regain a proper breath against a hammering heart.

“Um, Peter?” Slowly, Miles gets to his feet and starts toward the older man. “Are you–”

“Quiet, kid,” Peter grumbles. “I need to concentrate.” 

“On,” Miles draws out, looking around, “what exactly?” 

“Not having a damn heart attack!” Peter snaps, turning a sharp, unmasked eye, toward Miles. “I thought you were hurt or in danger or something!” 

“Why?” 

“Because someone broke into my apartment, told me you needed me, slapped this dumb watch on my wrist, then zapped me here!” He waves the watch in Miles’ face, and Miles grabs his wrist to study it.

There’s, what appears to be, a countdown on it: 47 hours and 51 minutes. 

“What’s this counting down to?”

“I don’t know,” Peter sighs, running a hand over his tired, drawn face. 

“Who broke into your apartment?” Miles presses. “Why did they say I needed you?” 

“Kid, I don’t know–”

“I’m doing just fine,” Miles continues, letting go of Peter’s wrist as he walks toward the edge of the building. He gestures toward the quiet city. “Look! There’s nothing–” he pauses, turning away to cough into the crook of his arm– “going on!” 

Peter arches one brow at him, and Miles sighs loudly. “Two nights ago these guys tried to rob this bank, and I stepped in and kicked their asses!” He stops again, his throat rebelling against him as he turns to cough sharply into the crook of his arm once more. When he looks back, Peter’s frowning at him, but he ignores it. 

“Since then, everything’s been quiet. I think word’s getting out to the bad guys that I’m no joke around here.” His sentence ends with a few, weaker coughs, and Peter starts toward him, saying nothing until after he slaps his palm against Miles’ forehead. 

Another deep sigh slips from his mouth at the heat coating his palm. “You’re sick,” he says flatly before lifting the watch to his mouth. “He’s just sick, moron! You almost gave me a heart attack!” He’s not sure if the asshole who zapped him can hear him, but he’s going to yell at the watch regardless. 

“I’m not sick,” Miles tries to protest as Peter pokes at the watch. 

“You have a fever.” 

“No, I don’t,” Miles argues, pressing his fingertips to his cheeks with a frown while he coughs. 

“Miles,” Peter starts along a deep breath of a sigh. “You do– you’re standing there shaking and coughing, and you’re fuc… you’re burning up. Go home, I’ll handle the patrol.”

“But–”

“Now, Miles,” Peter snaps. “Now, or I’ll carry you back myself.” 

The pressing urge to protest is hot against Miles’ chest, his mind, but his throat is starting to burn, and his head is throbbing. Maybe Peter was sent here to handle patrols while he catches up on some sleep– it makes sense, he thinks at least. 

He finally nods toward Peter and leaps off the side of the building. Peter watches, worry taking over his face as he keeps trained eyes on Miles until the kid is out of sight– only then does he grab his mask from his jacket pocket and slide it over his face. 

*****

Miles barely makes it home and flops in bed, falling asleep almost instantly, but all too soon he’s being shaken awake by a strong hand against his shoulders. 

“Miles.” 

“G’away,” Miles mutters, blindly swatting at the hand. 

“Come on, bud, wake up.”

When Miles’ slow and hazy mind can finally pick up on Peter’s voice, he sighs, cracking one eye open to see the older man crouched beside him. “You sent me away to rest. Why’re you waking me up?” Talking hurts far more than Miles thought it would, and Peter frowns at the boy. 

“Where are you parents?”

“Huh? They’re away on vacation. Why?” 

Peter only presses a palm to Miles’ forehead once more, and Miles takes that time to look at Peter’s watch: 29 hours and 41 minutes. 

He shoots up. “I’ve been asleep nineteen hours?” Hacking coughs tear up from his lungs at the sudden strain against his throat, and Peter wraps an arm around his back. 

“Jesus, kid. Breathe.” 

“I’m… trying,” Miles gasps out in between coughs, and after a solid minute, his lungs finally cooperate. “How have I been asleep this long?”

“Because you’re sick,” Peter says flatly, aware of the sweaty suit clinging to Miles’ small form. “You’re gross,” he says. “Have you taken medicine?”

“Not yet. I was planning on it, but I just… fell asleep.” 

“Go shower,” Peter starts toward the door. “Lukewarm water only– that fever is too high. I’m going to try and make soup or something.”

“You cook?” Miles questions, arching one brow. 

“I’m not that incompetent!” 

*****

The shower definitely helped a little– Miles feels a little more human when he exits the bathroom in a clean pair of pajamas, yet he still isn’t at 100%; he’s more at 12% he thinks. He shuffles to the living room, grabbing the throw blanket off the couch and wrapping it around his shoulders before flopping down onto the couch. 

Peter comes out of the kitchen with a bowl of soup, a water, and some medicine. 

“I’m not actually that hungry,” Miles confesses. 

“I might not actually care,” Peter says back, putting the bowl on the coffee table. When Miles scowls at him, he rolls his eyes. “Just try to eat a little.” 

Miles reluctantly obliges, finding the soup way better than he expected. He manages half the bowl before stopping because he’s growing tired. He grabs the pill bottle next and chases two pills with water before curling up onto his side with a sigh. 

“You’re not as mouthy as you usually are,” Peter comments, and Miles manages a weak glare. 

“You must really feel like shi–” he pauses, correcting himself– “terrible. You must really feel terrible.” 

“I do,” Miles mutters before his eyes drift closed. 

*****

Miles can’t remember much of anything when he wakes in his bed with a cool cloth on his forehead. Frowning, he grabs at it so he can turn his face to see Peter nodding off with his arms crossed in his computer chair. 

Squinting, he can just make out the soft glow from Peter’s watch: 4 minutes and 12 seconds.

“Time’s almost up,” Peter mutters, startling Miles as he opens his eyes and lifts his arms into a stretch. “Luckily, your fever is down a lot. You should be okay by tomorrow.” 

Miles genuinely feels a lot better. His head still hurts a little, as does his throat, but he feels like he can make it on his own again. 

“Thanks, Peter,” Miles starts. “We still don’t know what happens when the timer reaches zero, though, right? Did you figure it out?” 

“I’ll go back,” Peter says. He’s been feeling an odd pull since the timer hit one hour– it feels as if every cell in his body is pulling toward a strong force he has no control over. 

“Oh,” Miles says quietly. Not that he would admit it out loud, but he actually enjoys having Peter around. 

“Hey, kid,” Peter says, getting to his feet. “Don’t pout. Spider-Men don’t pout.” 

“You pout all the time,” Miles argues through a laugh, and Peter scoffs. 

“I don’t pout– I contemplate with a frown.”

Miles laughs harder at this, his laughing turning into a weak coughing fit that has Peter at his side. 

“You okay?” There’s more depth behind the word then Peter’s letting on, but Miles catches it.

“Yeah,” Miles answers once he catches his breath, and he means it. 

“Then, I’ve got to go.” Peter starts toward the window, not wanting Miles to see his body break apart while his cells pull him back to his dimension. 

“Will you be okay?” Miles asks as Peter hops onto the window sill. 

“Always.” 

“Will I see you again?”

A soft smile pulls at Peter’s lips, and right before leaping out the window, he says, “I sure hope so, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of hopefully many fics for this fandom! 
> 
> I'm obviously still working on characterization, so if it seems weird, it's because I watched the movie for the first time a few hours ago and just HAD to write something for it. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys it!
> 
> (come say hi to me, @toosicktoocare, on tumblr!)


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